Violins Are Played, Milk is Dropped and Sherlock Returns
by Lo613
Summary: It's been three months since John saw Sherlock jump. He's been coping, just barely. And then the detective comes back. Post Recheinbach reunion. Spoilers for Recheinbach. No slash. Please read and review. Rated T for swearing. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer- Nope, still don't own it.

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John stood in line at the store, patiently waiting his turn to check out. In his grip was a solitary gallon of milk. Milk. It reminded him of Sherlock. Of when he had been sent out to get the drink because Sherlock had depleted their entire supply in one of his mad experiments. Or on the rare occasion when the milk had actually been drunk. A memory ran through his mind.

Sherlock hadn't eaten for days in perfect order with his strange habits and it was puting Johns medical mind at great disease. He had to voice his concern. He wandered into Sherlocks room. His friend was lying on the bed, perfectly still, eyes closed, his hands in their some what prayer like position, breathing slowly. For a moment John thought that he had actually caught the consulting detective sleeping. He turned and began to exit the room. The man never slept and John knew he needed it with all the running around he did. Eating could wait until he woke up.

" What is it?" Sherlock asked suddenly, his voice surprising John. His smile turned to a wry one. Of course he hadn't caught Sherlock sleeping. He turned back to face his friend whose position hadn't changed, once more.

" You need to eat something Sherlock." John told the detective.

" Dull." Sherlock dismissed at once. John gave an exasperated sigh.

" Sherlock. Eat something please. Or at least drink something. We have milk!" He threw in the last part as a half joking half serious sat up suddenly his eyes opening.

" Milk?" he asked.

" Yes Sherlock, milk. Would you like a glass?"

Sherlock waved his hand at the doctor, denying his offer, seemingly lost in thought. " Glass of milk. Boring." he stated.

" Then why did you act all interested a mo-" John began before he was cut off by Sherlocks still soft voice.

" Did you know John, that I was once told that you could not drink an entire gallon of milk in a half hour with out throwing up?Sherlock gave a violent start and stood up.

" Oh for the love of God..." John breathed as Sherlock exited his room heading instead for the kitchen. He followed his friend a few moments later and found him taking milk out of the fridge and setting it on the crowded table.

" Now Sherlock," He tried to reason. " Why dont you think this through for a moment."

The detective ignored John and screwed off the top of the milk.

"Its an experiment John." he explained calmly. " Besides I'm drinking something arnt I?! Isn't that what you wanted?" Sherlock asked the older man mischievously.

" I- guess so... Fine. Do what you want, as long as you have something." John gave in , knowing he stood no chance of changing Sherlocks mind.

Which was exactly why half an hour later Sherlock was throwing up into the toilet with John sitting beside him, rubbing soothing circles on his back. After having empire the entire contents of his stomach, Sherlock leaned up against the wall, a layer of sweat glistening on his pale skin. He stood up, stumbled out of the bathroom and collapsed onto his chair. John followed wordlessly.

" John?" Sherlock asked.

" Yes Sherlock?" John replied his eyebrow slightly quirked.

" Don't- don't ever let me do something that stupid again. Please." The detective gasped out. John laughed at his friends request.

" I'll try Sherlock." He assured, a smile on his face.

" Good." Sherlock approved, speaking more calmly than he had the time before. "John?"

" Hmm?"

" Thank you."

Sherlock had said thank you. John almost made a sarcastic remark about the impossible chances of this happening, but thought better of it. He could count the times he had heard his friend utter those two words on one hand, best not to ruin the occasion.

" Of course Sherlock, anytime."

Someone tapped John on his shoulder and he snapped out of his flashback.

" You alright mate?" An unfamiliar voice asked. He brushed them away.

" Yeah fine... Just- fine." he replied slowly. John wiped his face and to his great surprise felt hot, wet tears rolling down his face. He turned from the other man and walked to the now open pin and chip machine. He paid for his milk and exited the store before hailing a cab. He paid the driver and sunk into the back seat, eyes still watering. It had been three months since he'd seen Sherlock jump. He just couldn't get over it. Most days it occupied his mind for hours at a time, trying to find an outcome where the detective was still alive. He still lived at 221b Baker street, it was impossible for him to imagine living elsewhere. It wasn't the same though. The kitchen table was clean, far cleaner than it had ever been before, free of chemical experiments. There was no violin playing at every waking moment of the day or coaxing John into a sleep. He kept the violin, never having considered selling it. Sherlocks smily face was still painted on the wall complete with the bullet holes that pockmarked it. No heads in the fridge or eyeballs in the microwave. The detectives manic energy was no longer present all the time, nor was the calmness wich had often occupied the flat when his friend had been thinking deeply. The place was lonely.

The cab pulled up to its destination. John got out, thanked the driver and enteredthe door to the stairs. He set the milk on the bench while he took off his cost and hung it up. As he set in on a hook he suddenly stopped. He could hear something coming from upstairs, very faintly but it was still there. John grabbed the milk and began up the stairs. If he listened very carefully it sounded like a violin. He gasped a breath. Mycroft. It had to be. For some reason Mycroft Holmes was in his flat playing the violin. Which was strange since he had never mentioned playing the instrument before, but that was besides the point. John didn't know if he would ever get back on comfortable speaking terms with Mycroft. He had been a massive part of the elaborate equation of Sherlocks death and John just couldn't forgive him. And now he had apparently broken into his flat and was playing Sherlocks violin. Unbelievable. John opened the door to 221b and burst in.

" MYCROFT GET OUT OF MY F-" He stopped in mid sentence and dropped his milk. " No." The word was barely a whisper. Infront of him, sitting in his chair, holding the violin, was none other than Sherlock Holmes. John took a small step back.

" But-"

" John." Said Sherlock, his blue eyes watching John carefully. " You've probably got questions-" He started. John walked towards Sherlock, his entire body shaking. From fear or anger or confusion, he didnt know. He stopped at the couch, snatched the violin out of the detectives hands, and threw it on the chair

" WHAT THE HELL US GOING ON?!" He yelled.

" John I know, I know I screwed up, but it's me, I'm back-"

John let a bitter laugh pass through his lips.

" Dont act like you're him because you're not. Sherlock Holmes is dead so you tell me what you're playing at now." He demanded, seething.

" No, John it's me, let me-" The man in the chair struggled to explain.

" You are not him." John said, his voice dangerously low. " I watched Sherlock Holmes jump from a building three months ago. I saw him die. I went to his funeral and I visit his grave everyday. He was my best friend so it might not be a good idea to pretend you're him because if you do, I will beat the living Hell out of you. Is that clear?" John asked, a vicious edge to his voice. " Do not toy with my emotions like this." he warned. The man on the couch put a hand on Johns shoulder who flinched away.

" John. Im Sherlock. It's me. I'm back." He stated calmly.

" I said-" John started but stopped. An idea graced him and he restarted. " Prove it." He challenged.

" How?"

" Deduce me. He was the only person on this Earth who could do it besides Mycroft. Tell me everything I've been up to."

" I told you I made that up though..." Sherlock said slowly.

" I never believed it. All those times he did it to people he had never seen before? There was no way he could have looked them up. He was clever enough to do it. I don't know why he told me otherwise, but he would have had the best of reasons. So," John said, his voice cracking the entire time. " If you're him... Do it."

Sherlock studied John for a moment before jumping into rapid fire speech.

" You haven't been sleeping well for the last three months because you believed that I jumped. You've been visiting your therapist to help cope. You also have not had a girlfriend while I've been absent. You still have your job at the hospital but now Lestrade is having you help with cases because you've actually picked up quite a few qualities from me that the Yard finds useful. You've keep everything exactly the way it was in my room. Moving on to more recent events. This morning you had a black coffee, two sugars. You didn't have sugar before but you do now. Sentiment. Remember that I did. The clothes you're wearing, they haven't been changed in three days, working on a case for Lestrade then. Got to go down to the yard later today, you're working with Anderson... Oh I'm sorry... Anderson. Bloody Hell. Anyways, you've been working with Anderson but were going to see of someone else would work with you today. Molly? Yes, Molly. Why? Because you enjoy her company enough to spend hours with her. Also the obvious fact that she's not Anderson. But that doesn't need saying. You're all out of strawberry jam so you had to borrow some from Mrs. Hudson this morning. Shame.. The case you're working on... Cant stay away from the case. Anyways it's a murder. Five murders, all related but you don't know how..." Sherlock paused thoughtfully. " Was I right?" He asked asked a moment later. " John! Was I right?!" He demanded when John didn't give him an immediet answer.

" Oh my God it's you... it's- you're alive..." John collapsed on top of Sherlock and embraced him in a rib crushing hug. The consulting detective returned it rather awkwardly, being extremely stiff the entire time.

" You're alive, you're alive. you're alive..." John sobbed into Sherlocks heavy black coat. Sherlock patted Johns back and hugged him back tighter, in a more relaxed way. After a moment John tore him,self away from his friend and stood up next to the chair.

" WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN SHERLOCK?! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!" John yelled demanding an answer. Sherlock flinched slightly at Johns sudden change in behavior and stood up next to him.

" I had to do it John." He stated calmly.

" Why? Three months Sherlock. It. Has. Been. Hell. Do you know how many prople you hurt? Do you?" John asked. Sherlock shook his head.

" Me, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly, Sarah, Anderson... Anderson Sherlock! Thats what happens when you jump off a building! Even Anderson cares! Christ he thought he was the reason you did it Sherlock! He thought that he had bullied you to the point of suicide? And Mycroft! Your brother! Jus- Just so I know, did you care about us, about what effects it might have had on people? About what it might have done to me to see you jump off a building?" He asked, infuriated.

" John thats why I did it though! Moriaty had gunmen on you! Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade too!" Sherlock tried to explain. A look of realization came over John as he put the pieces together.

" And unless you jumped he was going to have us killed... Oh that bastard... But I still don't get it, why did you wait all this time?"

" I had to get everybody working with or for Moriaty out of the area before I could come back. Otherwise you all would have been in danger. I came back as soon as I deemed it safe to do so. I promise. I didn't wait at all. Do you believe me?" He asked hopefully.

" Yeah, 'course I do... It's just a lot to take in, thats all. Never thought I was going to see you again..." John trailed off but came back full attention several seconds later. " We need to go tell people Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson and the force. Now. Come on." John started to walk to exit the flat but was stopped by Sherlocks voice.

" Can it wait John? Please?" The detective requested.

" Why would you possibly want to wait to tell your friends that you're alive Sherlock?" John asked, clearly exasperated.

" Tired?" Sherlock suggested.

" You? Tired? Really?"

' Yes John. Me, tired, really. It would help if I could sleep. Tomorrow please. First thing in the morning I promise." He said allowing a yawn to form before John replied.

" On one condition." The doctor agreed.

" Which would be?" Sherlock asked, his eyes half closed.

" You sleep with me tonight. My bed not yours. I just... I need you to do that. Nightmares Sherlock. I have nightmares. Every time i see you jumping and fall-" His voice broke off. " Please. It'll help. Honestly."

" Course John. I'll just be in there whenever you feel like coming to bed." And with that Sherlock walked casually into Johns room and fell onto the mattress, pulling the sheets over himself before closing his eyes.

John watched him and pulled his mobile out of his pocket. He dialed Lestrade's number and waited for him to pick up. After a moment the ringing ceased.

" Hey John, what's up?" Greg greeted casually, recognizing Johns number.

" I can't come in tonight Lestrade." John informed him.

" Well why not?" The D.I asked, clearly confused.

" I've just got something I'm doing. I promise I'll be in tomorrow. I'll put in extra hours if you like, I just can't come in tonight."

Lestrade didn't say anything for a moment. " John is everything okay?" Came the concerned question.

" Everything is fine!" John replied. He broke out into giddy laughter. " Everything is great! I'll tell you tomorrow!" John said.

"... All right... See you then. Good luck with whatever it is you're doing."

" 'Kay. Talk to you later." John hung up his phone.

" Sherlock?" He called. " I've got the night off!" He entered the bedroom and Sherlock halfway opened his eyes.

" Good." He replied. " You coming then?"

" Yep." John took off his shoes and collapsed into bed beside his friend. There was an uneasy silence between the two for a moment.

" How did you do it Sherlock? " John asked, breaking the tense quiet. The detective waved him off and turned to his side.

" Tomorrow." He muttered closing his eyes. John shook his head and smiled to himself. Giving in and accepting that he would find out the next day, he turned to his side as well and wrapped his arm around Sherlock, finding comfort in the warmth he felt at contact with his friend. Sherlock tensed slightly, feeling Johns arm around him.

" John... What are you doing?" He asked uncertainly.

" I'm hugging you Sherlock." John replied. There was silence for a moment.

" Why?" The detective finally asked. John sighed and sat up, causing Sherlock to follow suite, making eye contact.

" Because Sherlock, I'm happy you're back and I care about you. I'm hugging you because you're my friend." John explained condescendingly, as if to a second grader. A look of confusion came cover Sherlocks features and then it clicked with John. He realized that this was quite possibly the first time in Sherlocks life that he had heard those words. That somebody cared about him and considered him to be their friend. Their best friend even, John thought to himself. John lay back down and Sherlock did the same. The doctor returned to his original position, arm wrapped around Sherlock, feeling the steady, deep breathing of his friend, finding infinite reassurance in it, and then drifting into a contented sleep.

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Whew, that took me a long time to type. Depending on what you guys want this could turn into a multi chapter story. I've already got quite a bit of the second chapter done if that should be the case. Please review! I love reviews! Suggestions, ideas and opinion are welcome in the form of reviews or you can PM me. Thanks for reading and DFTBA!


	2. Chapter 2

**So this is basically just a note. I'm sorry if I got anybody hyped up. I don't think I did. Anyways I've decided to continue this story, but the updates are going to be pretty random. On the up side the chapters are going to be pretty long I should expect. I don't know where this story is going so suggestions are very extremely welcome, and will probably be a driving force in the story. So thanks for reading this thing, please leave an idea or seven, have a great day and DFTBA!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Im so sorry. It's only been, what, two months since I've updated this? *apologizes profusely* It's unacceptable and I'll do my best to make sure it doesn't happen again. To make up for the absence this chapter features: Confused Sherlock, happy John, Anderson being Anderson, and a guilty Lestrade! Enjoy! Disclaimer- Mr. Moffat would not negotiate...the quest continues...**

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Sherlock awoke early the next morning, Johns arm still around his side, the doctor snoring ever so slightly. He lifted Johns arm off of him gently as to not wake him and quietly slipped out of the bed. He left silently and wandered around the flat for a few minutes, trying to find some way to occupy his mind. While he wandered he thought. It felt good to be back at 221b Baker street. Good to be back with John. And soon he would be with and Lestrade as well. He smiled to himself at the prospect.

" How long have you been up then?" Johns voice sounded from across the room. Sherlock turned to face him.

" Just a few minutes." He replied. JOhn joined Sherlock in his position by the window.

" You want to head out then? Go the Yard?" Sherlock inquired after a moment of silence. John nodded his head in conformation.

" Just give me a sec to change. Three days in the same clothes? Fine Four days might be crossing the line." The doctor said, laughter evident in his eyes. " You?"

' I suppose I'll change." Sherlock replied grudgingly. " Have you touched my sock index?" He asked suddenly. A small smile played on Johns lips.

" You said it yourself Sherlock. I haven't touched your room."

The detective gave a curt nod of understanding and the two headed off to their respective rooms. Sherlock came out first several minutes later in a fresh shirt and clean pair of dark trousers, still wearing his heavy black coat. John emerged shortly after in trousers and his customary jumper.

" All right then." John said decidedly. " Lets get going." He made for the door with Sherlock right behind him. They climbed down the stairs and into the small room that led up to the flats. John grabbed his coat from a hook and pulled it over his shoulders. They exited the building and Sherlock ran out to the curb of the streets, hailing a cab. The pair climbed in, John paid and told the cabbie their destination.

" ...Soooo." John said, drawing the word out in hopes of inciting a conversation.

" So." Came the reply, not to Johns great surprise. Suddenly Sherlock continued. " What's this case you've been working on then?" He asked.

" I'll have Lestrade explain it to you when we get to the Yard." John told him. Sherlock gave a slight grunt, he had obviously been hoping for more. Several minutes later the cab came to a halt and the two friends exited together. They the thanked their cabbie and entered the station, Sherlock making sure to keep his head down in order to not be recognized. He and John made their way down to Lestrades office. John tried the door and found it to be open, however when they entered the pair discovered that the room was empty. Sherlock looked up at John, a cunning glint in his eye.

" We should go find him." He suggested. John picked up on what Sherlock was thinking and smiled. He nodded in agreement and they exited the room, Sherlock keeping his head down so that no one should see his face. They turned a corner and John stopped his friend.

" Let me go ask Molly where Gre-"

" Lestrade."

" Lestrade is." Said the doctor.

" Alright."

John started over to Molly while Sherlock waited as patiently as a person of his nature could. John approached Moly casually and maneuvered to where he was in front of her.

" Oh, hey John." She greeted, somewhat surprised at his sudden appearance.

" Hey Molly," He started, his manner slightly hurried. " You wouldn't happen to know where Greg is by any chance, would you?" He inquired, getting straight to the point.

" I do actually. He's with Anderson across the station, reviewing your case." She paused. " How come you didn't show up last night?" she asked.

" I had...things..." He told her dismissively.

" Thanks, I'll catch you later." John said as he turned and began back towards Sherlock.

" Well?" The detective asked impatiently as soon as John returned. " Where is he?"

John smirked.

" Across the station working with..." He let the words hang in the air for a moment. " Anderson." He finished dramatically. To his surprise Sherlock allowed a thin smile to lay on his lips.

" Oh, his reaction will be perfect..." He said thoughtfully, rubbing his cool hands together. John laughed at this.

" You can be so evil sometimes!" He said as they began their walk to the opposite side of th building. " You've been gone for three months and all you can think about is Anderson's reaction?!" H continued. Sherlock grinned and they found the door that led to where Lestrade and Anderson were working. John opened the door as quietly as possible as to go unnoticed. As soon as it was open enough Sherlock slipped inside and creeped up on the DI, who was still immersed in his work alongside Anderson. He shot one final glance at John and tapped Lestrade on the shoulder. The DI turned around, mouth opened in preparation to speak to John, but stopped dead in his tracks as Anderson continued working. Lestrade gaped slowly and stumbled back at the table he had been working at.

Anderson halfway looked up at Greg. Lestrade poked Sherlock in the chest softly, his look of confusion turning into one of intense anger.

" Who came up with this then?!" He asked, infuriated. He shoved Sherlock up against a wall and held him there. " What the hell John?! This your idea of a game?!" He asked, facing John. He turned back to Sherlock. " Thos is...this is fucking sick..." He said, still holding Sherlock up against th wall forcefully.

Anderson finally looked up to where Lestrade was at.

" Shit..." He breathed. " What the hell John? You know how I fe-...what I did..." He turned away from John In disgust.

" Who are you then?" Asked Lestrade, a tremor in his voice. Sherlock sighed and pushed Lestrade off of him.

" I'm me. Sherlock Holmes." He said. " Only consulting detective in the world?" He added, mock helpfully. He was met with a disbelieving silence.

" Oh that funny." Lestrade told him after a moment. " That's hilarious." He said loudly. Sherlock cut him off before he had the chance to continue.

" Listen!" He demanded. " It's me! I! Am! Sherlock! I'll prove it!" He quickly scanned the room, ignoring the stares of Anderson and Lestrade. After a moment he turned back to the two.

" Lestrade you had an all nighter last night, clothes are disgruntled and your head keeps drooping a bit like you're tired. Had a muffin this morning, cranberry, crumbs on your tie. Tea as well, milk and sugar. You and John have been working on this case with Anderson, it obvious, none of you had changed your clothes in three days. Lestrade you were about to call Molly. Phones on he table like you were about to call someone, but you don't take personal calls. Professional then. Whose company do you enjoy enough to be calling in to help? It's got to be someone who you've worked with for a while, and someone who's already informed of the case on top of that. Moly fits its into all of these criteria. Is that enough, or do you need me go on, Lestrade?" Sherlock finished. Anderson spoke up.

" What about me?" He asked. Sherlock stared at him.

" Well..." He stumbled over his words a bit " You're Anderson...theres no point...no one really...cares..." He finished lamely.

" Someone told you al that."

Sherlock's attention snapped back to Lestrade.

" There's no way he can be alive. He jumped and someone told all those things you've just said. Isn't that right Anderson? We all know why he did it." Lestrade said without emotion, watching Sherlock closely.

" Why did I do it then?" Asked the detective, curious as to their reasoning.

" Why do you think?" Came the dry reply.

" I don't know. Just tell me." Sherlock retorted heatedly.

" We it's not as if anyone was she kind to him. Anderson, Sally, Christ, even me sometimes, calling him a freak, ignoring him, disrespecting him, just bullying him. Doesn't take a genius to figure it out, he couldn't take it any more. We as good as killed him." Lestrade explained, his voice cracking. Sherlocks head cocked to the side very slightly.

" You're upset..." He said slowly. Lestrade snapped.

" OF COURSE IM UPSET!" He yelled. " WE! KILLED! SHERLOCK! HOLMES! WE BULLIED HIM TO THE POINT OF SUICIDE! NONE OF CAN EVER SEE HIM AGAIN, NO ONE CAN EVER APOLOGIZE FOR WHAT WE DID TO HIM! WE CAN NEVER TELL HIM THA WE CARED! EVEN IF WE DIDN'T ACT LIKE IT, WE DID, WE CARED! MOLLY LOVED HIM, AND SHE CAN NEVER TELL HIM! DO YOU THINK THAT HE EVER EVEN CONSIDERED THAT SOMEONE MIGHT HAVE FELT THAT WAY ABOUT HIM?! EVER?! I CAN'T STOP FEELING RESPONSIBLE, AND THEN YOU COME IN HERE PRETENDING TO BE HIM! JUST STOP!" Lestrade finished his yelling, shaking. John glanced at Sherlock, who was standing stock still, in shock of what he'd heard.

" Lestrade." John called gently, walking over to the guilt-ridden DI and putting a hand on his shoulder.

" The man standing in front of you is Sherlock Holmes. I am completely positive in every way. I walked into the flat last night, and there he was! Playing his violin!" John laughed. " I didn't believe him either, so I had him deceive me. He got every single detail right, there was no way anyone could have told him those things. I had him sleep in the same bed as me last night to help with nightmares. It was him. He felt the same as ever, he smelled like Sherlock. I hugged him and he was just as confused as anyone would expect for Sherlock Holmes to be." John said happily. " He's back." The doctor let Lestrade think this over for a minute, trying to accept the news.

" Shut up Anderson." Sherlock said sharply a moment later.

" I didn't say anything..." Was the confused reply.

" You were thinking it." The detective retorted quickly. " Its annoying."

" What, exactly, was I thinking...?"

" That John and I slept together in a way that...implied more tha- more than friendship." He said, in his trademark way of fumbling over his words when the subject was anything intimate.

" Fine. Fine, that what I was thinking." Anderson confirmed.

" Then you believe it's me right?" Sherlock asked. Anderson gave a slight nod.

" We didn't sleep together that way." John interjected. " We slept together because of my nightmares. I'm still not gay, sooooo..." He finished with a meaningful shrug of the shoulders.

" It's you..."

Everyone in the room spun around to face the DI, who had just spoken quietly.

" It's really you..."

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**And so concludes the second chapter. Tell me what you think! Reviews are much appreciated! If you've got any ideas go ahead and tell me in a review or PM me. I don't know when the next chapter will be up, but it won't take two months! Thanks for reading, have a great day, and DFTBA!**


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